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This much I know about myself. I’ll never be able to get around the kitchen without a recipe book. The most that I can cook is rice and anything fried. Even frying something gives the possibility of getting it burnt (well done, to be nice about it.) I’ll never have the aesthetic and the capability to keep a house looking clean, interior-designed and decorated. On that note, I know I can never maintain a house clean for more than a week. Things will be messy before the week ends. I’ll never be able to iron clothes properly. They always come out like they’ve never been ironed at all. I’ll never be able to do my own laundry. I’ve tried before but it’s exhausting and back-breaking. I’d rather wash the dishes. It’s probably the only thing I can do around the house. Aside from fixing defective light bulbs or leaky faucets. I have two left feet when it comes to household chores. I’ll never have the patience to shop for clothes. It will always irritate me. And I’ll never care …

I have to write this down, because the opposite tends to happen after I’ve said or written it. Everything else had come true, except for the last one.

There were many things she said about me, how I am not of the journalistic kind. I’m not the one to write down facts, but make up stories. That I could spend hours lost in space, because my imagination always runs amuck.

You seem to be in the middle of a big decision in your career. You’re one foot in, one foot out. I see travels within six months, out of the country. Any relationship you have now or will have within the next two years will be trial relationships. It will never last. When you’re 30 or 31, you will meet someone and that will be the one. The in-laws will not be welcoming to you, but you won’t care and it won’t matter to you.

That was the end of October last year. The seasons have ended by January. I did quit work and did go out of the country last December and on the sixth month, this April. The last one is tw…

I love how a shaft of light enters my new room to tell me it is morning. It reminds me of my old room when I was younger; how I can lie in bed and stare out the window, watch the sunrise or sunset or moonrise. I had a view of the skies and the stars and on bad days I used to wish upon them even though I know it’s all malarkey. There’s something about being a kid that’s simple and provincial. Whatever loneliness is washed away by stars, popsicles, and ice cream.

It’s so far from that now. I haven’t stayed or slept in that room for a very long time, not since I graduated from high school. It has become an empty room, a storage for old, unused things. I used to visit it when I go there, but I never stayed long enough to sleep. Sometimes, I’d sit by the window at night and watch the people passing by below like I used to. The view of the sky hasn’t changed much. The stars, the ones I used to wish to, are still the same. Only I felt different. I’ve stopped wishing on stars. I see…

It's not false modesty when I diffuse people's compliments on how I look. In the gym, it has ranged from "nice lookin' man" to "hot Asian" or "mighty cute" to "the nicest smile this state has ever seen." Sometimes I'd fake a smile, say thanks, or look at them quizzically. Because I don't get it. I remember what my friend used to say: kung mabenta ka sa ibang bansa, ibig sabihin pangit ka sa Pinas kasi gusto ng foreigners exotic.

I can live better with that rather than a string of compliments that I don't consider real. I've known myself consciously for a million years, stared reluctantly and begrudgingly at the mirror every waking moment, and I never saw what others did. I never liked what I saw and I've simplified a lot of things, like shaving my hair regularly, so that I won't have to spend half my life staring at a mirror.

I'm comfortable with my skin, but I'm just not my type. If I were to wa…

The closet is empty, except for what I will have to wear this week. It took me two hours, two small boxes, and one luggage bag to pack up my life. I don't have a lot of things and I don't need a lot of things. I can always get by with the minimum.

July has always been a month of transition, at least for the last four years. Whether it's a new job, a new position, a new account, or a new house, the first month of the second half of the year has always been marked with change, a move to something different. Of course, there have been changes in other months, but last Saturday I realized I have been working for four years already. It's nothing to crow about really since most people my age would have been working 6 or 7 years already. Most people my age have done something greater or better, moved up the corporate ladder or traveled the world. I never dreamed of climbing ladders. Maybe traveling the world, but that's a different story. I've always been con…